One of These Days
by xAalyiah
Summary: It's been ten years since graduation and since the man of Hermione's dreams broke her heart. Now she gets a letter from him asking her to meet him. But how can she? She's married with a son! Will Hermione go to see Harry? HHr one shot.


**× One of These Days**

**Lyrics from the song 'One of These Days' by Michelle Branch.**

I didn't notice  
But I didn't care  
I tried being honest  
But that lead me nowhere  
I watched the station  
Saw the bus pulling through  
And I don't mind saying  
A part of me left with you

One of these days  
I won't be afraid of staying with you  
I hope and I pray  
Waiting to find a way back to you  
Cause that's where I'm home

Did I make you nervous?  
Did I ask for too much?  
Was I not deserving one second of your touch?

One of these days  
I won't be afraid of staying with you  
I hope and I pray  
Waiting to find a way back to you  
Cause that's where I'm home

What would you do if I could have you?  
Oh if I could  
I'd let you feel everything I'm thinking  
Wouldn't that be nice?

One of these days  
I won't be afraid of staying with you

* * *

_The End of the Year Feast started just about at six o' clock in the evening. Hermione Jane Granger had made it punctually to the feast for six years straight, until the year of her seventh, her final year. Instead of sitting at the head of the Gryffindor Table waiting for the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to make his End of the Year Speech, she was outside on the Hogwarts grounds having her heart broken._

_She hadn't known she was going to have her heart broken. She had been asked by her longtime boyfriend Harry Potter to take a walk and "talk", as he put it, and she had agreed with him; mainly because she was too eager, too desperate to have an opportunity to spend with her boyfriend. It had seemed that in the past few months they were drifting apart._

_The two of them headed outside the castle, Hermione mightily glad when Harry took hold of her hand and intertwined his fingers between hers. She couldn't remember the last time he had held her hand like this. She found herself smiling warmly at him as they walked aimlessly across the grassy lawns._

_She had actually through all of her momentary joy, noticed Harry seemed distracted somehow. Like he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice the bliss he was making his girlfriend feel just by simply holding her hand. He didn't realize just taking a walk with her would make her so happy; that's how lost in thought he really was._

_When more than ten minutes passed and he had not said anything, Hermione decided she'd take things into her own hands. She stopped walking just near the school lake, making him stop, and come out of his critical thinking._

_"Harry," she had said, her voice was full of question. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"_

_At that point Harry wasn't the only one that came back to reality. Hermione seemed to have a sudden epiphany about what was really happening around her. The happiness seeped away, and that was replaced by fear; fear of the unknown about just what Harry had brought her on a walk for. He had not taken her on a walk in ages and now that he finally did, she realized it wasn't one of those tranquil couple walks; it was a 'We-Need-To-Talk' walk._

_"Look, 'Mione, I think we need to talk," Harry replied. He took both of her hands in his; Hermione's fear deepened. Harry was staring down at the grass below, petrified to look into his girlfriend's eyes as he did this._

_"About w-what?" Hermione asked cautiously._

_"I dunno, 'Mione, I know what I want to say…I just don't know how to say it," he said with difficulty. He sighed, at last braving a look up into her hazel eyes. His emerald one's were for once hard to read for her. "I just think maybe…perhaps we should break up."_

_"Break up?" Hermione asked quickly. She tried her hardest not to cry. Why did she always have to cry, she found herself asking her own self silently? Why couldn't she just suck it up and pretend like it didn't hurt? Harry seemed to be doing that. She hated him for his ability at being able to hide his feelings somehow better than he could ever hide under an Invisibility Cloak._

_She wanted to ask why, but realized that would actually sound as if she cared. Of course she did, she just didn't want him to see it. Her resistance for the tears to come pouring out her eyes didn't last for more than another minute. Soon tears were emerging in her eyes, giving her eyes a gleaming sort of effect due to the light from the setting sun._

_Oh, what the hell, she might as well ask him why. He could see it all over her face that she was hurt. She had forgotten completely about the End of the Year Feast; she had actually forgotten completely about everything in the world besides herself and Harry._

_"Why?" she whispered her question. She didn't dare speak anymore; her voice probably would crack completely._

_"I just…I dunno," he answered again with intricacy. He shrugged, now letting go of her hands; she almost felt as if she were about to fall through the ground without his support. "I guess it's just for the best…"_

_She got it now. She understood why he was doing this. She wanted to push him for his behavior and feelings. The tears dried up as she made the transition from hurtful sorrow to anger._

_"This has to do with me telling you I love you, doesn't it?" she asked him loudly._

_He nodded. "No, no it—" he began._

_"You're afraid. You're afraid of saying it back, aren't you? That's why you're breaking up with me," she growled. She didn't need this. She knew she was better than having her heartbroken like this for such a stupid reason. She found herself shrugging it off, acting just as indifferently as Harry seemed to be. "Fine, Harry. I un-understand," she said coolly, "I better go now. Have a nice life."_

_She turned away, walking away not just temporarily from him, but for good. Or that's what she would have liked to think. She returned to the Great Hall just as Dumbledore finished his speech and when she was asked by Ron later on why the two of them refused to be in the same room as each other, she replied that she preferred to not talk about it. That was the truth…she preferred to pretend like the handsome man named Harry James Potter, the man she had fallen hook line and sinker in love with, didn't exist and that he never even did in the first place…_

Her husband was shaking her gently, trying to get her to wake up. He had to get to the Ministry and he knew she wouldn't have a problem with taking Erick to the wizarding daycare in Diagon Alley on account of her working at the Daily Prophet office there.

"Jane – Janey," he murmured to her, still shaking her lightly. "Get up…it's seven already."

Hermione's eyes opened. Her first sight of the morning was the white ceiling above her. She stared up at it for a brief second or two, before she sat up, looking automatically at the clock. She smiled at her husband for waking her up and got out of bed to get ready for the day.

For a moment she had thought she was still in her seventh year and that Harry had broken her heart all over again. But that wasn't completely true at all. It was just over ten years later; she hadn't seen the man that owned her heart since June of 1998.

"So how was your sleep?" her husband asked, making small talk.

"Um…it was fine," she answered shortly. She picked up the clothes she was going to wear for the day and headed inside the restroom. Why couldn't she get her mind off of something that had happened to her ten years ago? She had to remember she was happily married to Benjamin Peterson and had a very adorable six-year-old son named Erick. She couldn't think about something that would never be.

"Bye, Jane," said her husband, kissing her on the cheek; he could still sense something was wrong with his wife.

"Bye," she said distractedly.

Her husband frowned before he left their home to head to work. Hermione knew faintly she was treating her husband rather cold that morning, but she couldn't really kiss him back. Deep down in her heart there was only one man she wanted to kiss…

**×**

"Why aren't you at work?" Ginny Weasley asked. She picked up a handful of some coconut clusters and stuffed them hungrily into her mouth. She wiped the crumbs of chocolate and coconut off of her face before she practically drained her cup of hot chocolate.

Hermione shrugged, frowning. She wasn't sure why she had dropped her son off at the daycare and yet hadn't bothered to go to work. She had just sort of skipped it. She didn't feel like working.

"I didn't feel like working," Hermione said.

"Okay, now I am really getting worried. The day Hermione Jane Granger doesn't feel like working is the day the world should end," Ginny teased. She called the waitress of the café in Hogsmeade over and ordered another hot chocolate, her third hot chocolate that winter morning. "Why am I eating so much? I'm just so hungry. I know it's 'cause I'm pregnant, but I remember when you were, you didn't eat Ithis/I much."

"Everyone's different," Hermione said. She was surprised when Ginny grabbed her cup of hot chocolate and drank that, too. She pretended as if this didn't bother her. "I'm sorry I'm acting so depressed right now. I just need to take my minds off certain things right now. Um…so why don't you tell me more about how you and Neville are doing?"

"Great, great. We're just both excited about this baby," Ginny said, patting her huge stomach. "I'm just excited that way I can stop getting my old figure back."

Hermione let out a laugh. Through the whole little breakfast outing the two of them had together Hermione couldn't stop finding herself staring out the window longingly for a certain someone to appear on the other side of the window; she wondered how he was doing. When Ginny decided to head on home to eat some more and then take a nap, Hermione decided to stop at the Hogsmeade Owl Post Office.

She walked along the snow-covered roads of Hogsmeade with her hands stowed into her winter cloak. She was staring off at the beautiful Holiday decorations, finding herself on the brink of crying. The way the snowflakes fell slowly to the floor reminded her of the time when Harry and her had stood outside as it snowed and opened their mouths to catch snowflakes on their tongues. She remembered them laughing endlessly, especially when she herself slipped on the snow and Harry went to help her up, only to slip himself. She smiled faintly. Those were such fun memories. They were some of the best memories of her life.

She entered the Owl Post Office and waited in line until it was her turn. The woman behind the counter was tan with very short, brown hair that was almost the exact same shade as her skin. She smiled politely at Hermione and asked, "here to check your P.O box, mam?"

"Yes, please. P.O box number 62985," said Hermione quietly.

The woman nodded and disappeared from view. Hermione stood there, waiting patiently to get her mail. Her eyes traveled over to the line next to her where there was a couple standing together, contently wrapped in each other's arms as they waited for their turn with the clerk. She didn't realize she was staring at them for over half a minute until the woman with her mail cleared her throat. Hermione turned her attention back on the clerk.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Here's your mail, mam. Have a wonderful day. Happy holidays," said the woman, handing over the mail.

Hermione took her mail and started going through it as she left the Owl Post Office. The mail was just the same it appeared. Bills. Junk mail. Sales Papers from stores at Hogsmeade. Benjamin's mother's weekly letter to them. She was about to stop going through her mail when her hazel eyes landed on something that almost made her heart stop beating. It was a letter. But not just any letter like the worthless one Ben's mum had written them; it was a letter addressed to herself and from none other than Harry. On the front of the envelope it read:

**_To: Hermione J. Granger _**

**_From: Harry J. Potter_**

Hermione nodded her head no fervently. Her eyes must be playing a trick on her. She knew this. There was no way that Harry would send her a letter after ten years. There was no way. No question about it. It was impossible. And yet here was the letter right in her hands. She tore it open desperately and held the letter closer up, just so that she would be able to see the words perfectly precisely.

**_Dear 'Mione,_**

**_It's been a while, hasn't it? Ten years, five months, and twenty-one days actually…look I know you're probably about to tear this letter up right now after what ended up happening between us, but don't…at least not yet. I know you've gotten over me, I know you're in fact married right now, but I need to talk to you. Please. I know I've been the biggest prat imaginable, but there's something I need to tell you. I'm finally ready to tell you, 'Mione. I'm going home for the Holidays from Hogwarts and I'll be taking the train at the Hogsmeade station to my house. I was thinking before I get on, maybe we could meet there tomorrow at eleven. I know I'm asking so much, but I need to talk to you. Things haven't felt right for ten years. I need to make them right. _**

**_--Harry_**

She was feeling so many mixed emotions the moment her eyes reached the end of the letter. She was somewhat happy. She wanted to see him so badly; she wanted to hear his voice; she wanted him to hold her. Then she was sad. She was sad that it had taken him ten years to contact her. She was sad that she was married to another man. After those emotions was her anger. How dare he have the audacity to contact her after ten years later from breaking her heart to expect her to just drop everything, to put her own life on pause just to go meet him? Who the hell did he think he was?

She tore up the letter. She couldn't go see him. Was he insane? What would her husband think? How could she ever forget about that? She knew she wouldn't be able to control herself around Harry; she wanted him so badly in everyway. She tossed the letter inside the nearest wastebasket and hurried out of Hogsmeade, deciding she should go pick up her son. Erick would take her mind off of this.

"Why'd you have to pick me up so early?" Erick asked, licking his fudge lollipop and getting the fudge smeared all over his mouth, making a huge mess.

"Because I thought it'd be nice if we spent the rest of the afternoon together," Hermione answered her son. She had to let go of his hand, because it was so sticky from all the fudge. "I thought you'd like to spend a day with your mum."

"Are you going to buy me anything, mum?" Erick asked her. He peered up at her with his innocently curious blue eyes.

"Err, no, we're just heading home. Maybe I can read you a story," she suggested. Most would say her son was a brat, but he wasn't to her; he was just too curious and blunt for his own good. Sometimes her son even reminded her of Ron.

The two of them headed home, but she never did get a chance to read him a story; he immediately went outside to have a snow fight with some of the neighborhood children. He said he would rather spend time with his friends. She accepted this and was left to sit in the living room near the fire, and think about Him.

Maybe she should go. It couldn't hurt. She could just go to let him know she had fully moved on and that he was now the one to suffer with a broken heart. What was she thinking? She couldn't go. How would Ben react if he found out? He'd probably feel betrayed. But she wanted to see him! She knew she needed to. Wait, why should she need to see Harry? She had a husband that loved her so much, and he was actually able to tell her he loved her.

"I can't just sit here and think about this," she whispered. She stood up and decided she would make dinner. She entered the kitchen and started pulling out the pots and pans, and the meat and vegetables. Maybe she should cook the Muggle way tonight. She paused when she was reminded irresistibly of Harry's birthday seventeenth birthday. That had been the last time she had cooked a full dinner the Muggle way.

She remembered exactly how it had turned out. She had tried to make Harry a nice stew with lamb chops. It hadn't turned out very well to put it in simple terms. Her stew had ended up extremely gooey, gummy and not to forget, chewy as well. And the lamb chops. She had managed to burn those to a crisp. She could still remember the look of amusement Harry had on his face as he pulled her into a kiss, telling her he treasured everything about her, even the fact that she couldn't cook being included. He told her she looked so adorable with Mrs. Weasley's cooking apron on and the matching mittens; she thought he looked adorable altogether.

Hermione sighed. A tear left her cheek and fell onto the frying pan on the counter right in front of her. When'd she start crying, she asked herself? She hadn't even notice she was. With the back of her hand she wiped the rest of the tears away and made up her mind; she was going to see him tomorrow.

"Janey! I'm home!" exclaimed Ben, entering the kitchen too suddenly for Hermione's liking.

She jumped in surprise. She almost felt as if her husband had caught her committing infidelity. He just practically had. She was thinking of meeting another man that she hadn't seen for ten years. She put on a smile for him.

"H-Hey dear," she stuttered. It was obvious something was wrong. "How was work?"

Ben gazed at her worriedly as he picked up an apple from the bowl of fruit resting on the kitchen counter. He bit into it, still watching her questioningly. "What's wrong, Jane? Is everything all right?" he queried.

Hermione nodded ardently to convince him nothing was wrong. "I'm fine, dear. Just about to cook dinner. I think I'm going to make a roast tonight, is that all right?"

"Of course, Ilove/I," he replied, "I guess I'll go outside to fetch Erick then. It's getting dark. Remember last time he got lost and almost went home to the wrong house." He chuckled a bit and started out the kitchen, but paused at the doorway. "Oh, and by the way, I picked up a very precious present for a very special someone." He winked then left now for sure.

Her husband was so sweet and thoughtful. She knew that. She hated the way she couldn't wholly appreciate him like she should be. With shaking hands she finished dinner the magical way, secretly planning on meeting Harry Potter at the train station tomorrow behind her husband's back…

**×**

She was there at the Hogsmeade train station at ten forty five. She was praying that he showed. She was putting her heart on the line again for him, and this time he couldn't disappoint her or else she didn't know if she could handle it.

Each minute felt like it took five times longer than it should have to pass. She continuously checked her watch every minute or so to see if it was time yet.

Still she couldn't help wondering if maybe what she was doing was wrong. Going behind the back of her loving husband and innocent little boy was something she knew was horrible. But her needs were just too great. She couldn't leave now.

"Maybe I should have asked someone for advice…Ginny maybe," Hermione whispered to herself.

That sounded like a very good idea. Too bad she hadn't thought of it an hour ago when she got dressed to come here.

Soon there was only three minutes before eleven. She found herself counting down the seconds left in the minutes until eleven o' clock came. Merlin how desperate she was. Hermione had always known of her desperation for Harry, but it apparently had gotten even worse.

The huge clock just near the boarding area struck eleven o' clock. Hermione held her breath as she looked around for him. He wasn't there. Okay, so he was going to be a little late. Harry wasn't perfect, that was just one of the zillion things she loved about him.

Ten minutes passed. Still, he probably was just running late. He probably stopped by Dumbledore's office to have a last minute chat with him or something, she figured. He would be there any moment now.

By the time the clock was eleven fifteen Hermione had a fresh dose of tears in her eyes. Not again. Her heart was going to be broken again. She had to hold the world record for foolishness. With her hands she dabbed at her eyes as she decided it was time to go.

She started toward the exit with her arms wrapped around herself. She had never noticed how cold it was outside, or maybe the weather wasn't what was cold…maybe her heart was. How could Harry Potter have the nerve to do this to her? Did he think this was all just a huge game? Was this some sort of sick joke being played on her on his part?

"Oh, well," Hermione sighed.

Even though she was now left to wallow in her own self-pity, her own self-idiocy, she found that she couldn't cry much anymore. Maybe that's just since she had cried herself all out of tears lately. She left the Hogsmeade train station and decided she fancied a long walk, a very long walk. She didn't even know where she was going. She was lost.

If only Hermione had waited four minutes longer. At exactly eleven nineteen twenty-eight year old Harry Potter showed up at the train station looking for the woman he deep down was in love with. He had been building the courage for the past ten years to tell her how much he loved her, and had finally known that he could do it now; he wasn't afraid anymore. But, as he took a look around, he noticed that apparently he should have been.

"One of these days possibly," Hermione whispered as she walked, ""maybe someday he'll be able to tell me." She could do nothing but wait to see if that day came.

Harry waited there until his train came. Reluctantly he boarded the train, convinced that she completely hated him. He couldn't blame her. Look at what he had done to her in the past. He broke up with her ten years ago out of fear of commitment, and he knew he couldn't expect her to stop her life for him. What was he thinking? Hopefully one day they would meet again and she wouldn't hate him so much any longer. He was going to dwell on this for the rest of his life, though. He'd never be able to have her again; he'd never be able to tell her how much he really did love her. He felt himself crying quiet tears; being with her felt so right, it felt like Ihome/I. Now he would never be home again.

After a long hour of walking aimlessly throughout the streets of Hogsmeade, Hermione returned back home. She sat down in an armchair near the fire. It was surprising how much having your heart broken for a second time hurt. Nevertheless, it was a different kind of hurt than last time. Last time it was a sad, gloomy hurt. This hurt, although it was still sad, was an accepted hurt.

"I'll be waiting, Harry," she said softly, her eyes staring at the crackling and popping flames. "I'll be waiting until you think you're ready and unafraid. One of these days, I know you will be."

**× Finis ×**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. Please review.


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